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ANDALWOOD 
CHEST 



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THE SANDALWOOD CHES'L 





















Illustration from drawing by Irma Detlefs 

THE CHEST HAD BEEN HIS WEDDING GIFT TO HELEN 







When will the streams be aweary of flowing 
Under my eye? 

When will the wind be aweary of blowing 
Over the skyf 

When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting? 
When will the heart be aweary of beating? 

And Nature die? 

Never, 0 never! nothing will die! 

— Tennyson^ 


The 

Sandalwood 

Chest 


By 

Charles F. Bieder 



Printed by 

THE BRITTON PRINTING CO. 

CLEVELAND, O. 




i 


Copyright, 1919, by C. F. Bieder 



• • 

% 


JUL 25 1919 

©Cl. A 5 3 0 5 2 


The Sandalwood Chest 


AMMOND had just 
finished reading “The 
Fall of the House of 
Usher,” and with a 
nervous gesture he 
snapped the book shut 
and tossed it upon the table. 

At the same instant his eyes in- 
voluntarily turned toward the open 
doorway to the adjoining room, as 
if he expected to see, silhouetted 
against the room’s deep dusk, the 
pale and melancholic Lady Madeline 
in one of her noiseless nocturnal 
walks. 

“What a vivid imagination Poe 
had, to be sure,” Hammond mused. 


I 


Page Seven 



THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


forcing a little laugh at the uncanny 
impression the story had made on 
him. “His psychically-sensitive 
brain was always searching out the 
abnormal in life or seeking to pene- 
trate the occult mysteries.” 

While making this oral observa- 
tion, Hammond half-switched off 
the light of his reading lamp, throw- 
ing the room in semi-darkness, and 
settled back meditatively in his 
chair. 

A clock somewhere in the house 
chimed the hour of midnight. When 
its musical echo had died away, a 
muffled stillness settled down — the 
eerie, indistinct murmuring of the 
night wind outside being the only 
sound that reached his ears. 

This fitted in well with the mood 
that had fallen suddenly on Ham- 
mond: for this was the anniversary 
of a night, five years gone, that was 


Page Eight 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


seared in his memory, and the soft, 
weird voice of the wind intensified, if 
that were possible, his recollection 
of it. 

As the devout Moslem turns his 
face toward Mecca and makes pil- 
grimage to its shrines, so too now 
did Hammond turn his thoughts 
from all worldly affairs to commune, 
alone and in the silences, at the altar 
of his heart’s loyalty and devotion. 

It was not self-pity that impelled 
him to this; neither was it a sickly 
nor morbid sentimentality. It was 
because his nature, having been 
plumbed to its depths by an endur- 
ing love, could no more turn from 
the memory of that love than it 
could be false to itself. 

When he had married Helen, he 
was but two years past his majority, 
while the roses of twenty summers 
gave their bloom to her cheeks, and 


Pag: Nine 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


the elfish spirit of humor and happi- 
ness sparkled in her expressive large 
dark eyes. Her lithe young body 
reflected the very joy of living. 
Responsive to every generous im- 
pulse, her soul expanding in the 
warmth of sincerity of friendship 
and love, she was, beyond all com- 
parison, desirable to him. 

Care-free, with laughter in their 
hearts, they had planned together 
for the future. The vista of the 
years spread out in radiance before 
them. There was no cloud in the 
sky that canopied their love. They 
belonged to each other. That was 
enough. In their little paradise no 
serpent of discord, of unhappiness, 
should ever intrude. 

It is ever thus when love is young. 
In the flush of its vigor and beauty 
and pride only the alluring colors of 
the rainbow are seen on life’s hori- 


Page Ten 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


zon. Life itself is a feast of delights 
of which there can be no surfeiting. 
The birds sing never so sweetly, the 
flowers are never more beautiful — 
all things in Nature pulse in unison 
and joy. 

But the Fate that rules in human 
lives — call it by whatever name we 
will — is sometimes ruthless in its 
decrees. In a twinkling, all is 
changed. There comes a blight that 
shrivels to nothingness the brightest 
hopes, the fairest dreams. 

The honeymoon was scarce six 
months spent when Hammond’s 
bride was stricken with a fatal 
illness; and the melody and faith 
in his heart were changed to dis- 
cord, chaos. It was as if Life, for 
him, had worn a smiling mask, 
which now was thrown aside, and 
he saw for the first time the relent- 
less, cynical face of Reality. 


Fage Eleven 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


After the first sharp edge of bitter- 
ness had worn away, however, Ham- 
mond applied himself to business 
affairs with an energy and concen- 
tration that brought to him success 
and honors. In work he tried to 
find forgetfulness; and in the society 
in which he mingled he sought dis- 
traction from the periods of de- 
pression that took possession of him. 
There were times during the slowly 
receding years when he felt that he 
was but an empty shell; that the 
inner life of him, that which was the 
best and finest in him, had been 
wrenched away, leaving a laceration 
for which there was no healing. 
He was philosopher enough to know, 
however, that the world turns from 
private griefs, but invariably holds 
a welcome for the courage of cheer 
and laughter. His true feelings, 
therefore, he never betrayed to his 
friends and acquaintances. With 


Page Ticelre 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


the exception of an intimate or two, 
whose sympathetic understanding 
strengthened the bond of friendship, 
his smiling exterior and genial man- 
ner meant only an enviable content- 
ment with the world and the pleas- 
ures it held out to him. 

But Hammond tonight was not 
thinking of these things. In the 
midst of his reflections had come a 
feeling — vague at first, but insistent 
— that he was not alone in the room; 
and coupled with it a premonition, 
like a warning against unknown 
danger, sounded in his brain. 

Hammond never had known the 
sensation of fear; and he was not the 
kind to permit such vagrant thoughts 
to disconcert him. But in spite of 
himself they persisted, and refused 
to down. Burglars.^ — pooh! The 
evidence of his physical senses 
assured him that he was quite alone. 


Page Thirteen 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


Perhaps it was the moaning of the 
wind outside — perhaps it was the 
strange story he had read that had a 
little unnerved him. He laughed 
aloud at the thought, but his usually 
vibrant voice sounded thin and 
mirthless to his ears. He arose and 
walked slowly across the room, peer- 
ing furtively into the deeper shadows 
made by the various furnishings. 

Then, feeling somewhat ashamed 
of himself for giving way to this 
semblance of timidity, Hammond 
turned quickly and went into the 
adjoining bedroom. He switched 
on the light, and after a hurried, 
nervous glance around the room, he 
opened the door to a clothes press 
built into the wall at one side. 
Reaching in, he drew from its resting 
place a small, ornately-carved chest 
made of sandalwood. 

He took the chest up carefully in 


Page Fourteen 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


his arms, and retracing his steps 
placed it upon the table. 

It could be seen at a glance that 
this chest was a product of the 
subtle skill and enduring patience of 
Oriental artistry. ' Along its edges 
were hand-graven Chinese charac- 
ters, symbolizing moral truths from 
the writings of the philosopher and 
teacher Confucius; while the panels 
were inlaid with designs in mother- 
of-pearl depicting phases of Chinese 
folklore and legend. 

In the dimmed light of the room 
the iridescence of the mother-of- 
pearl ornamentation, against its 
background of age-worn saffron tint, 
was softly luminous, enhancing in 
brilliance the changeful colors. 

Hammond paused a moment or 
two, fascinated by the colorful 
beauty, the unique individuality of 
the chest. Whenever in the presence 


Page Fifteen 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


of this sandalwood chest, he sensed 
a mysticism in the atmosphere of 
its own creation enveloping it. He 
was doubly sensitive to that feeling 
now. 

But above its enchantment of 
beauty and mystery for him, was 
Hammond’s feeling of veneration for 
the chest. It was, indeed, to him 
a thing sacrosanct. Having belonged 
to Helen, it bore the invisible impress 
of her personality, and — the thought 
was comforting to him — so long as 
he preserved it inviolate she could 
not be wholly lost to him. For five 
years now, so jealous had he been 
in his care of the chest, no eyes but 
his had looked on it, and no other’s 
hand had touched it. 

The chest had been his wedding 
gift to Helen. It had come into his 
possession through an old sea cap- 
tain, who had been in China at the 


Page Sixteen 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


time of the Boxer rebellion. It came 
originally from Peking the For- 
bidden City, and was said to have 
belonged at one time to an empress 
of a former dynasty. 

Helen, of course, had prized the 
chest highly, and in it she had kept 
only her most treasured possessions. 
And Hammond had kept it as she 
had left it, adding to its contents 
only a few articles of tender asso- 
ciation that had been hers. 

Pressing his finger against a secret 
spring, cunningly concealed beneath 
a small disk of pearl in one of the 
panels, the chest was unlocked, the 
lid flying open. An incense of 
sandalwood enveloped him. Mingled 
with it he detected a faint, sweet 
odor of lilies of the valley — her 
favorite perfume. He closed his 
eyes, intoxicated for the moment by 


Page Seventeen 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


the sensuous delight of the combined 
fragrance. 

Hammond then lifted from the 
chest a garment that lay on top, 
carefully folded : a cream-colored 
confection of almost impalpable soft- 
ness and texture, which shimmered 
in the half-light like the moon’s 
reflection on rippling water. 

It was a bridal gown. He held it 
at arms’ length and let its graceful 
folds ripple through his fingers, viz- 
ualizing as he did so the girlish figure 
of Helen as he had seen her wear- 
ing it. The garment, to him, was 
enveloped by an aura — ethereal, 
elusive, yet as colorful and real to 
his senses as a delicate twilight 
mist floating above the surface of a 
pool. 

Hammond thrilled at the thought 
that her personality hovered near 
him. The faith that had been dead 


Page Eighteen' 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


in him was quickened. Why had he 
ever doubted ! She had passed from 
this to a higher plane of conscious- 
ness, to a larger life, and was there 
waiting for him. . . . The great 

love that surged in his heart was 
assurance to his reason that he would 
see her again. . . . 

Laying the gown reverently onto 
the couch, he fell on his knees beside 
it. Many times before had he opened 
the chest and caressed the various 
articles it contained; but never be- 
fore this night had he experienced 
the deep emotion that now was 
mastering him. It was of that 
poignancy that makes mute the 
lips and causes a tightening at the 
heart. Yet it was not an emotion 
of grief. It was, rather, the tense 
and masterful yearning of a soul 
that would break down the invisible 


Page Nineteen 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


barrier that separated it from the 
object of its love. 

The garment was crumpled under 
the caressing passion of his touch. 
He held it close to him, pressing 
it against his breast, against his 
lips. . . . He gathered it 

within his encircling arms and 
buried his face among its soft 
and yielding folds. 

The consuming tension of his 
feelings soon relaxed, gave place 
to calm. He felt, with certainty 
now, the nearness of a Presence — 
having for him the potency of a 
caress — and the tumult in his 
heart was stilled. 

When at last Hammond arose, his 
face had lost its color; it was hag- 
gard, and underneath his eyes deep 
purple half-rings had formed. List- 
lessly, he replaced the garment in 
the chest, and closed the lid. The 


Page Twenty 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


decisiveness of action that usually 
characterized him had given way to 
indecision, uncertainty. The ebb 
of his passion had left him for the 
moment inert and broken — he could 
not regain mastery of himself. Sway- 
ing unsteadily, he gripped the table’s 
edge for support. . . . 

Presently his eyes were slowly 
lifted, as though drawn by some 
powerful hypnotic force he had no 
strength of will to resist, and with 
suddenly focused, level gaze pierced 
the shadowy darkness at the far end 
of the room. 

He brushed his hand across his 
face, as if awakening abruptly from 
sleep, as if uncertain that what he 
saw was not a trick of vision. Then, 
when he looked again, his eyes 
flamed with a new light. Every 
nerve and muscle went aquiver. 
Joy transfigured his face, and a low. 


Page Twenty-one 


T TI E SAND A L W O O D CHEST 


glad cry trembled on his lips. In 
the next instant he had sprung for- 
ward, arms outstretched and eager — 
Helen — Beloved!'' . . . 

“It was fine in Mr. Hammond to 
leave me all these beautiful things 
that were Helen’s!” exclaimed young 
Mrs. Morley, looking up at her 
husband, who was thoughtfully 
watching her as she, sitting on the 
floor of their living room, unpacked 
from a sandalwood chest rich and 
dainty apparel and other objects of 
feminine delight. 

This young couple had endeared 
themselves to Hammond by their 
unselfish friendship for him, and 
according to directions in his will, 
the sandalwood chest had passed 
into their possession. They had 
just opened it. 


Page Twenty-two 


T HE SANDALWOOD CUES T 


“As you were Helen’s dearest 
girlhood friend,” Morley said in 
answer to his wife’s exclamation of 
surprise and appreciation, and shar- 
ing her earnestness, “he well knew 
that you would treasure them.” 

“Oh, I love them!” she cried. 
Then, in lowered voice: “I begin 
now to understand how much he 
missed her.” 

“I had the same thought,” he re- 
plied. “Had it not been for this” — 
motioning toward the chest — “prol)- 
ably we never would have known.” 

To natures receptive to the finer 
sympathies there come moments en- 
riched with spiritual values. The 
inner vision is broadened, and that 
which is merely physical becomes of 
lesser importance. Such a moment 
had come to these two, and there was 
now borne in upon their conscious- 
ness the truer, deeper understanding 
of a human heart. 


Page Ticenty-threc 


THE SANDALWOOD CHEST 


For several minutes neither spoke. 
Then, pausing in her work of love, 
she asked softly: 

“Do you believe, dear, that he 
and Helen are together now.^” 

“I am convinced of it,” he an- 
swered. “They are journeying to- 
gether in a better, greater world 
than ours — and are very happy.” 

As by a common impulse, they 
arose, and arm in arm walked out 
onto the veranda. Standing there 
in silence for a moment, their 
eyes were turned unconsciously 
toward the heavens, resplendent in 
all the glory of an autumnal night — 
and to them the stars seemed never 
so near. 


Page Twenty -four 





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